


Anniversary

by operationmycroft



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Holmes Brothers, Incest, M/M, POV John Watson, Protective John, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operationmycroft/pseuds/operationmycroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Mycroft can hide it from the world but not from John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry if this is super ooc and awful but i needed to write something ksdjhfksjhdflks  
> this is set after the wedding before HLB?

Sherlock left the wedding just after he told us we were having a child. I didn't even notice, it was Molly who asked me where Sherlock had gone off to after the dance. Unfortunately, one can't leave their own wedding party before it's over so we stayed. It was only the day before we were to go on holiday that I managed to pop in to check if Sherlock was doing okay. Perhaps he was feeling just ill, but I knew that I was kidding myself.

"Sherlock?" I said as I let myself in. Mrs. Hudson seemed to be out.

Silence answered my call. I walked up the stairs, avoiding the creaking one carefully. I had no idea what to expect, he must still think that marriage or even a child will change our relationship. I opened the door slowly. Calling again. The flat was empty. A tea cup sat on the table most likely from before the ceremony. Taking out my phone I called his number. Was he on a case? His phone rang out in the flat. I quickly made my way to his bedroom and the source of the sound. Flinging the door open I started,

"Sher--!" Oh. The phone lay on his bed next to the tux that he had worn to Mary and I's wedding. What? Wherever he had run off to he came back first to drop of his clothing and his phone. The phone which altered him when he had a case. The phone which he always had on him. I turned, already calling Mycroft. His assistant picked up.

"Hello, John." A pause as she waited for him to say something. "How can I be of assistance?" She said coolly.

"Where is Sherlock?” I said hopefully. “Or Mycroft?" I said less hopefully.

"Mr. Holmes is busy. The younger Holmes is currently unavailable." That was very vague... and probably untrue.

"What is that suppose to mean?" I demanded. "Do you know if he is alright?"

"Is there anything else that I can help with Dr. Watson?" Anthea said dismissively.

"No. It's fine. Thank you." I forced out.

I stood in 221b for a few more minutes before taking a cab back to our flat. We left soon after that. It was five days later when we got back that I called Sherlock again.

"Hello? Sherlock?"

"John," A silky voice said. Mycroft. "How was your honeymoon?"

"Why do you have his phone?"

"He's here actually. Sleeping though. I expected you would call and-- collected it."

"Wait. He's at your... house?"

"And doing quite well." Muffled footsteps could be heard.

"Sherlock, go back to bed." Mycroft ordered.

Sherlock's response couldn't be heard but I assumed it was some scathing remark.

"John, I have something to attend to. Have a pleasant day." The call ended.

*****

"Sherlock... was that really necessary? That was John. I can only _hope_ he didn't hear you." Mycroft glanced up to see his brother leaning on the door frame of his office wearing his blue dressing robe.

"Yes. Of course it was. You were distracted. And I know he didn’t hear me, don't treat me like such a child." Sherlock strided into the room walking behind the chair he was sitting in. Running his fingers through auburn hair he leaned over and rested his head on his brother’s.

"Thank you." Sherlock said. Mycroft hummed. For the phone call or the week he wasn't sure. Both most likely.  

"It was nothing."

"You know it wasn't." With that Sherlock tipped his head back and claimed his lips from above. It was careful and apologetic But before long Sherlock pulled red hair, eliciting a breath of surprise and pain from the elder allowing him to slip his tongue into his mouth mapping it out as Mycroft had done so many times before. The heat grew, their tongues sliding past each other, dancing to a tune only they knew. Sherlock pulled back just long enough to spin the chair and seat himself on Mycroft's lap before kissing him again. They broke for air.

"Just like old times. Hm?" Mycroft said

"You know I have to go back."

"Tomorrow, isn't it." It wasn't a question. "We still have time."

"Before we have to act again? It comes too easily now." Sherlock said frowning slightly.

"It was the only option."

"No, it wasn't." Sherlock interjected knowing full well it was the only realistic one.

"We both need the work. We would have killed each other after a week." Mycroft paused. "You know you can visit sometimes and Mummy even said she wanted us to 'get along' so dinner once a week would go unnoticed."

Sherlock sighed. "I suppose John's attentions would be else where but if he ever..."

"--He won't.” The elder interrupted. “We are much too smart for that. We've had...what...nearly fifteen years of practice."

"Next month." Sherlock murmured and Mycroft smiled.

*****

Happy 15th Anniversary. -MH

 

The ping of a text message rang out on the crime scene. Sherlock smiled slightly and told Lestrade to arrest the son before turning his attention back to his phone.

 

Meeting? -SH

 

Sherlock briskly walked out of the building. Intending to catch a cab back to 221b.

 

Yes, French ambassador. Again. -MH

 

His reply was immediate.

 

Dinner? -SH

 

Seven. -MH

 

*****

Sherlock was definitely acting odd. I had been invited back onto the cases but it wasn't exactly the same. Something was different I just couldn't put my finger on it. The ping of a text message rang out loudly on the quiet scene. Sherlock was in the middle of his investigation when the phone beeped immediately bringing a sort of half smile to his face. He quickly told Greg who it was but didn't stop to explain before taking out his phone and texting back. He walked out of the building eyes glued to his phone. I followed, a little worried. The ping sounded again and a flurry of fingers followed it. Glancing up he called a cab with that uncanny ability to always find one. As he got in his phone pinged again. Placing it back into his pocket he told the cabbie where to go.

“Sherlock?” I asked.

“Yes?” He turned and for a moment looked a little surprised that I was still there.

“I'll be getting back to my apartment then?”

“Yep.”

Sherlock got out and give the cabbie a seemingly random bill before briskly walking to the door of 221b. I made his way back to my own apartment slowly, lost in thought about what was wrong with Sherlock.

*****

 

Mycroft arrived at seven as usual, he was perfectly on time. Letting himself in he walked into the living room, sitting down in John’s chair. Sherlock's movement was muffled though the flat but Mycroft could tell he was getting dressed. Trying not to think about such things before dinner he got up and looked around the flat. Sherlock came out of his room not much later wearing his purple shirt he knew Mycroft liked and black trousers.  

“Are you ready?” Sherlock asked his brother, taking in his attire that was not much different than his own, very underdressed for the British Government, it made him look a lot younger and more attractive, the detective thought. 

“Yes, yes. Where are we going?” Sherlock rarely chose where they went.

“I assume you already have a few ideas.” Mycroft smirked at this, of course he did and very much wanted to know if he got it right.

“Stating the obvious again.” Mycroft drauled. Sherlock leaned in as kissed him, unable to hold off any longer. Met with a sound that only make Sherlock want to do it again, rip off the masks and leave only the brilliant mind. Mycroft took control, pushing him back toward the wall holding his wrists to either side, his skin like fire, bodies flushed, their minds growing blissfully blank. The fight of their tongues was tipping in Mycroft’s direction when John burst in the door.

The brothers were apart in an instant, but the damage had been done.

“What the fuck was he doing to you, Sherlock!” John yelled, apparently forgetting what ever was important enough to run back to Baker St.

He glared around first to Mycroft who only blinked three times in succession, shields already back up, and then to Sherlock who looked a little more rattled, mouth slightly open.

“What is going on? Did he force you?” John growled, not even looking at the elder.

A glance was shared between the brothers. 'You have to tell him'

“John…” was all Sherlock could come up with.

“We--” Mycroft started.

“Don’t.” John hissed. “Sherlock. What. Is. This.”

“It… we…” Sherlock wouldn't meet his gaze.

“Was he assaulting you!” The doctor spat, pulling out a gun and pointing at the elder Holmes. Nothing moved but Mycroft’s eyes which narrowed, the training for assassinations he received, kicking in. It was only this which Sherlock seemed to notice because he said quietly, warningly, “My...” and then to John, swallowing, “No, he was not. We are in a perfectly consensual relationship that I instigated and we have been for fifteen years. Today's our anniversary…” he added almost to himself.

It was at this moment when Mycroft plucked the gun from John’s hand while he stood paralyzed, flicking the safety back on with much more ease than someone with a office job should have. Sighing, he placed the weapon in his coat pocket. It seemed that their anniversary was going to mostly consist of uncomfortable conversations and bad tea. Sentiment was definitely a bad idea, but he couldn't help it.

  
  



End file.
